A short talk with Fernanda.

Like I said, I could tell that Fernanda was more relaxed than when she came through the door, but that was so long as she was doing something with me. Washing dishes, preparing orders, cleaning tables… But when it came to waiting on tables, it was a different story.

I watched her from behind the counter as she took the other of a group of three. Two guys and one girl around her own age. It wasn’t intentional, but they weren’t making it easy for her. It was one of those groups that can’t decide on what they want, how they’ll divide the bill, have special requests and change their orders just before the waiter is about to leave. It’s always confusing and you need to focus and keep everything straight. But if you’re nervous and start panicking, it becomes very likely to make mistakes.

Fernanda came back from taking the order and Maria told her to prepare it while she cleaned a table for another set of customers. I was refilling the juice machine and trying to pay attention to what Fernanda was doing at the same time. That’s when I noticed something.

Fernanda was about to pour a cup of coffee, a cappuccino. I did hear someone order that, but if I got it right, they changed their order almost immediately and asked for a simple latte.

“Hey, are you sure it wasn’t a latte?” I asked her, keeping my voice down so the people at the table wouldn’t listen.

“Eh?” Fernanda froze. She set the empty cup down and looked at her notepad again. “Y-Yes, that’s what I wrote down. B-But…”

“Go back and ask him again. Better to be sure, don’t you think?”

Fernanda pursed her lips. “But… They’ll know I made a mistake and...”

I could almost hear what went unsaid. ‘And then they’ll get mad at me,’ was probably it.

“You haven’t made any mistakes yet. Even if you had, it’s not an issue if you fix it. Even so, prevention is always better than fixing things. Go, apologize for interrupting them and confirm their order.”

Fernanda swallowed hard, nodded and, with notepad in hand, went back to the table. A moment later she came back and resumed preparing the order. “You were right. It wasn’t a cappuccino, it was a latte.”

“Did they get mad at you?”

“...No.”

I nodded. “Good.” Didn’t want to throw it in her face with an ‘I told you so’, because the scenario she played in her head had played 100 times before in mine.

About 30 minutes before we had to close shop we had a big lull in customers. The shop was completely empty and not many people were walking by outside. It was a bit rare, but not too much. Things always slowed down at this hour.

“I’m gonna take this chance to go ask my mother something,” Maria told us. “Hold the fort, alright? You know what to do. I won’t be long.”

“Can you bring me a big cheesecake? I’ll pay for it, of course,” I asked her.

“Sure.”

Maria walked out, leaving me alone with Fernanda. The older girl looked at me with confusion in her brow. “Her mother?”

“The owner of the bakery across the street, the OTHER Maria,” I explained, smiling.

You know, for as little as she talked, Fernanda had very telling expressions. Unlike Diana who kept it all bottled down to get things done, Fernanda wore her heart on her face. But like Diana, that was both a good and a bad thing.

Fernanda sat on a stool across the counter, eyes on the door. I figured I might as well use the time to clean the coffee machine, so I turned my back to her. Genuinely didn’t expect her to start a conversation.

“How… How do you do it?” she asked me.

“Hm? You have to grab this tray here and lift it. Then you pour all the coffee that dripped into it and…”

“N-Not that…”

I chuckled. “I know, sorry. I thought it’d be funny.”

She smiled and shook her head before repeating her question. “How do you do all this? The people, the workload, the… stress. You make it all look so easy.”

“I wouldn’t call it easy, but it has become EASIER than when I started. I remember Maria scolded me because I was making customers uncomfortable by scowling at them all the time.”

“...” Fernanda swallowed. “Aren’t you… scared of making mistakes? Of people getting mad at you?”

“Oh, scared shitless,” I admitted freely. “Been working here for almost a year and I still have to stop myself from making up worst-case scenarios.”

Her jaw fell, her eyes wide as plates. “Then… How?”

“Mmm… I guess I realized something over this past year, both from working here and from finally talking to more people.” I smiled at her. “It’s not the end of the world when something bad or embarrassing happens. Even if people get mad, tomorrow still comes, for us and everyone else. If something embarrassing happens, people will laugh and then move on. You’d be surprised by how few people actually care about this stuff. Everyone is too busy to dwell on what someone else did or didn’t do. And if they do get hung up on some stupid thing you did, then there’s a big chance their opinion isn’t worth hearing, anyway.”

How many dumb mistakes did I have to make to learn this lesson? I used to be so afraid to say a word, and when I got the courage to start talking, I DID make the mistakes I was afraid of. And yet the world didn’t end. I started off on the wrong foot with some people, had fights with others, and yet eventually I managed to be on friendly terms with them. There are people I don’t like, people I don’t want to see, and so I stay away from them instead of letting them make my days bitter.

I sighed. “Sorry, I don’t want to preach. It’s just it took me a while to learn that. I don’t know if seeing things that way would work for you, but it does for me. It takes a huge weight off my shoulders.” I chuckled and rubbed the back of my neck. “Most of the time. I keep being told I still think the worst will always happen, but… I’ll never get anything done unless I push those thoughts aside. And when it comes to work, believe me, it all feels a lot better when you get paid.”

That got a small laugh out of her. She looked really cute laughing.

…

Uh-oh.

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